


Asleep at last

by TheNightCourt09



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 23:24:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17334341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightCourt09/pseuds/TheNightCourt09
Summary: Just a cute Rowaelin one-shot set AFTER kingdom of Ash. Minor spoilers. lots of Fluff!!!





	Asleep at last

**Author's Note:**

> a little cute story. I will probably write a lot of these in the next few months as I am obsessed with the characters and the story

Ruling a kingdom was hard. It was damn hard and the evidence of the past few months were finally wearing on Aelin Ashryver Whitehorn Galathynius.

Every morning she woke up before dawn, read through the endless stack of letters and documents that were quickly piling up on her desk in the adjoining study. During this time, she sipped her mourning tea – still dressed in one of her many scandalous night gowns that still made Rowan swear to her endless amusement. She would then prepare for endless council meetings about the rebuilding of Terrasen and restoration of Orynth after the bloody and brutal battle that had knocked these walls. She still woke up in the middle of the night with the cries of the dying ringing in her ears. She feared it would be a while until she wouldn’t. If it wasn’t the screams of the dead that haunted her for hours after she woke up it was the confinement of the iron coffin that still affected her more than she’d like to admit. Even now she sometimes had to sleep with the balcony door open just to feel the wind on her face.

 After preparing for those obnoxious council meeting, she usually guzzled down breakfast, put on pants and a tunic and made a few rounds around the city, seeing to the rebuilding and reconstruction herself, familiarising herself with the denizens and seeing how the new fae and wolf people adjusted to living with humans. So far nothing serious had happened and she thanked the now non-existent Mala for it every day.

On top of all that she had private meetings with her inner circle about political issues but most importantly to establish how they were to run the country. They were learning the old ways. Rowan at one side, Aedion at the other side and then Fenrys, Lysandra and Ren following. Lorcan had gone to Perranth with Elide to begin their life there. Aelin didn’t want to involve him unless he wished to be a part of the “court nonsense”. She had a feeling though that once Lorcan and Elide were settled in Perranth they would find their way back to Orynth for weeks at a time to assist in the council meetings.

Manon was off in the Western Wastes, rebuilding and managing her new kingdom. The last Crochan Queen finally taking her spot on the throne just as Aelin had done all those months ago. Dorian was currently demolishing the castle to rebuild one better and stronger, still scavenging for Elena’s tomb so that she and her husband could be moved into a temple. Chaol was busy with his wife, Yrene, who apparently had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl whose name was yet to be discovered.

Aelin was also busy sending letters back and forth to Dorian about the ties between the two countries – trying to mend the wound that Adarlan had caused. It wasn’t an easy case.

It was surprising that she found anytime to herself nowadays. She didn’t read or play the piano or have very much time to talk to her friends save for meetings or passings in the corridor. She was running from one place to the next. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept or even had sex with Rowan for that matter.

“Fireheart, you need rest,” Rowan said from the doorway of their shared study. She was busy pondering all the financial statements one of the lords had dumped on her in a meeting that afternoon.

“Hmmm,” Aelin said, forehead creased, not really paying attention to him. How were they to rebuild the city and castle with this? There was so much to do still.

“Aelin did you hear me?” Exasperation edging his voice.

“No, I don’t want a tea.” She continued her examination of the records.

Rowan huffed out a laugh and stalked into the room. Jerking her chair back from her desk, “hey no, stop it. Rowan!” she yelled as Rowan walked around the front of her and lifted her up over his shoulder so swiftly, she didn’t register it until she’d been turned upside down.

“Aelin it’s two in the morning and you’ll be up in a few hours, so I suggest that you go to bed now, so you aren’t a walking zombie tomorrow.”

“No Rowan put me down,” her arms pounding his muscular back and her legs writhing as if to lodge free, “I have work to do with the bills and the money and the – ow! Rowan! You overbearing mother hen,” she argued and thrashed as he carried her into their large suite and dumped her on the bed.

“Lace or silk?” he yelled as he strolled to their massive armoire.

“Lace,” Aelin mumbled grumpily, knowing she’d lost this battle. This was typical of Rowan to drag her into bed. If he didn’t most nights she would only end up with almost no sleep whatsoever.

Rowan threw her the lacy nightgown and got changed into some boxer shorts before sliding into the lush four poster bed. Aelin huffed in annoyance and poked her tongue at him but slid into bed beside Rowan – extinguishing all the candles and turning the roaring fire to embers – and snuggled in close to Rowan. Aelin didn’t bother creeping back to the study knowing full well that Rowan would just trudge back in there and drag her back by her hair if he needed to.

Snuggled in under his arm she felt her exhaustion of the past few months sink down on her.

“Fireheart, you work too hard.”

“I know but I need to do this, my people need me to do this.” Rowan kissed her forehead and wrapped her in closer. His scent of pine and snow relaxed her further and it wasn’t long until Aelin fell into a sleep so deep she didn’t dream at all.

. . .

 

Rowan held his Fireheart close, listening to the sounds of her breathing as they evened out and she fell asleep – finally.

She hadn’t stopped since being crowned queen, but even before that she was busy trying to fix everything, the city, the people and the heart of Terrasen itself. She was going, going, going and she wasn’t slowing down.

Her eyes were heavier - duller, her shoulders bearing down the weight of the world. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard her play the pianoforte that they kept in their rooms, right by one of the towering windows that overlooked the Staghorn mountains. Or seen her read a book for that matter – something he knew she loved doing as well.

He closed his eyes and narrowed in on her beating heart, her steady breaths. Sometimes he awoke in the night in panic as the memories of her being stuck in that coffin overtook him, or when he saw her clawing her face off to try and get the iron mask off – her desperate screams breaking his heart. Or standing there, eyes dead as she surrendered herself to the gods damned lock and he felt the mating bond stretch and tear as she slowly gave herself over. Those feelings were so unbearable that he found himself out of breath and searching inside himself for that tether wrapped around his heart.

So, holding her in his arms he was finally calm, happy and content if not a bit worried about her lack of sleep.

But right then, as the full moon bathed the castle walls of Orynth in a pale blue wash of light , and the Staghorn mountains slumbered in the final days of winter. Where the castle was quiet and peaceful, sat atop the city that was sprawled out beneath it. Rowan held his carranam, his wife, his mate, his Fireheart and fell asleep – Aelin nestled in his arms.


End file.
